


Awkward

by kissmedeadlytt



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-29 23:28:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,364
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissmedeadlytt/pseuds/kissmedeadlytt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alphonse walks in on something he really, really never wanted to see. -Implied Alphonse/Winry and Havoc/Hawkeye and lots of swearing</p>
            </blockquote>





	Awkward

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first work I am posting on this site. This was posted as a chapter to a drabble series on FFN. I'm still trying to figure out how this site works (though it's pretty straight-forward) so please, keep that in mind. I was unsure if I should rate this mature or teen and up, because while there is a brief amount of sex it's not really graphic or anything, so... I just chose teens and up.
> 
> I don't own FMA and I'm sorry if I missed any typos or grammar errors while editing.

It was a nice day, Alphonse thought, sipping idly at his iced tea and staring out the window of his brother’s apartment to the busy outdoor life of Central city. He was staying here while he was back in Amestris from his studies in Xing, and he really had missed the different life here. The scents wafting up from the streets below were those of car exhaust, freshly baked bread, cool air and the underlying pungent scent of the sewer opening that was a few blocks down. It was peacefully different from Xing, where the air smelled of spices and always had an energetic, kinematic buzz in it. Even the way the sun shone seemed different, but it was familiar and warm on his skin and he loved it.

The cheerful city life below him suddenly took on a glowering tone, and it only took Al a moment to spot the furious whirlwind of pissed-off irritation that was his older brother. Ed stormed down the streets, the scowl on his face visible even from the third floor. Al sighed and stepped away from the window, taking his few last precious moments of peace and quiet to muster up patience to deal with whatever Ed was angry about now. Al had the patience of a saint, but when Ed was in one of his moods, he could very well try the patience of a rock.

The door slammed open, and then Ed stormed into the apartment, curses and swears flying from his mouth in a way that could make a sailor shed a tear of pride. Sighing again, Al wondered how it was that Ed was twenty-three but still acted like the temperamental brat he’d been at fifteen. Some things never changed, he supposed. He sipped at his iced tea again, leaning on the wall by the doorway and watching with a concerned sort of interest as Ed kicked his boots off, making them go flying and spraying dirt everywhere. This only made Ed curse even more. “Fuck! Fucking dirt, what the fuck do you think this is, a fucking game? _Fuck_ I am so goddamn _done_ with this bullshit, fucking hell I’m _gonna_ castrate Mustang with a fucking rusty knife and fucking serve him his own dick for dinner, _fuck_!” By the end of that, he was panting, glaring hard at the specks of dirt on the wall like whatever had happened was entirely because of them.

Al couldn’t help but smile a bit. Ed was something else, that was for sure. “Brother?” he said quietly, ice cubes tinkling softly in his glass as he idly swirled it.

Ed jolted as if he’d been zapped and spun to face Al, face reddening. “Oh, hi,” he said weakly. “I didn’t know you were here.”

Rolling his eyes, Al wandered back into the living room. “Where else would I be?” he said loudly over the sound of Ed muttering dark things in the entryway. “It’s not like anyone I know is around or off.”

“I thought you had that thing.” Ed emerged from the hall, throwing his black coat onto the back of the couch before flopping down tiredly onto it. “That thing you were going to take Winry to?” he prompted when Al looked at him blankly.

“Oh,” Al suddenly remembered, cheeks heating up faintly. “Right, that… yeah, we were supposed to, but Winry’s train got delayed. She’s still in Risembool.” He smiled, a bit forced. “Another time, I suppose. It doesn’t start for another hour, but I still don’t have anyone to go with.”

“Ah, that fuckin’ sucks…” Ed muttered, shutting his eyes lightly. He still looked miffed, so Al decided to take a chance and ask.

“What did the general do to piss you off this time?” he asked, letting a small amount of amusement creep into his voice.

“General fucktard,” Ed snarled, “decided that it would be appropriate to fucking rip the report that took me _hours_ to complete for that stupid fuckin’ mission in Xenotime I just got back from, all because,” he dropped his voice to a mocking baritone, “’It was inappropriately written for a colonel of your status, Fullmetal, and half of what it read was complete and utter bullshit.’” Ed growled and kicked his legs out blindly. “What the hell would he fucking know? He wasn’t on the mission, he had no clue what fucking went on but _nooo_ ,” he rolled his angry gold eyes, “apparently hours of slavery over trying to get every single goddamned detail of the mission means nothing to that fucking bastard unless it lives up to what he wanted to hear.” Al was about to answer, but Ed let out a huge sigh and went on, “It isn’t my fucking fault the guy had goddamned arrays on his hands and was about to blow my head off! I just did what I had to do to survive— which you’d think he’d _appreciate_ , seeing as how we’re supposed to be in a fucking _relationship_ ,” he said vehemently, crossing his arms and finishing with a growl that kind of made Al worry for general Mustang’s life.

“Well,” he said hesitantly, not wanting to accidentally pull the figurative pin of Ed’s grenade, “maybe he was just worried, Ed. You know, with you putting your life at risk when you can’t use alchemy to defend yourself anymore… He probably didn’t mean it in a bad way.”

Ed’s rage stuttered for a moment, a soft look coming over his face. Then it came back and his eyes flashed angrily, but Al could tell that Ed hadn’t actually thought about that and that it actually pleased him. “Yeah, well I don’t give a shit,” Ed grumbled. “That didn’t give him the right to fucking tear up my report, Al. I _swear_ I am going to kick his ass all the way to Drachma the next time I see him.” He slid down in his seat until his butt was almost entirely off the couch. “It’s not like I didn’t _try_ to be civilized. It looks good on paper, but when the guy’s about to blow my head off, I’m not gonna try to negotiate. I’m not a diplomat, I’m a fucking soldier.”

Al let out a long sigh, getting to his feet. He headed over to the kitchen and set his empty glass in the sink, turning to face Ed with the most patience he could muster up. “I still have the tickets to the show,” he said, raising his eyebrows. “You could come with me to take your mind off of things and cool down, and talk to him tomorrow,” he suggested. “Otherwise I’m going to have to go find someone to sell the tickets to.”

Ed grimaced. “I’d love to, trust me. Unfortunately, I have to go back in to work at seven and rewrite that damned report. Even sitting through a boring freaking concert— no offence,” he added when Al stared at him resentfully, “even that would be a better alternative, but…” He rolled his eyes again. “Mustang’s dead set on punishing me.”

Glancing at the clock, Al nodded. “Okay then, no big deal. Do you know if Havoc is off tonight?”

“What time is it? Five… I think he gets off at five-thirty. Why?”

“Well, I know Hawkeye has the week off, and I thought maybe they could go.” Al smiled, a bit devilishly. Ed gave him a slow grin.

“You tryin’ to set them up?”

“Maybe,” Al said lightly. “I mean, it’s pretty obvious Havoc has a huge crush on her, and Hawkeye seems to have gotten over the fact that Mustang is in love with you. I think they could work. Don’t you?”

Ed, who had started to flush slightly when Al off-handedly mentioned his and Roy’s relationship, cleared his throat and nodded. “Yeah,” he muttered, trying to pretend he wasn’t blushing. “What time is it at?”

“It’s in an hour, actually.”

“Great!” Ed got to his feet and grabbed his jacket. “Let’s go now. I’ll see if I can convince Mustang to let me off the hook this time.” His grin was just a bit perverse, and Al cleared his throat awkwardly.

“I’d appreciate if you didn’t make sexual implications, brother… I know what you guys do behind closed doors, but that doesn’t mean I wanna think about it.”

“What?” Ed snapped, reddening. “That wasn’t a sexual implication, you moron.”

“Then why are you blushing?”

“I’m not— damn it, Al!”

Al just rolled his eyes. “Come on.”

**_____**

As soon as they got to Mustang and his staff’s office, Ed made a beeline for the door on the opposite side, glaring at it the whole time. It slammed shut behind him. Al responded to the questioning looks from Havoc, Breda, Falman and Fuery with a shrug. “Apparently Ed’s got a bone to pick with the general.”

“When doesn’t he?” Havoc muttered, his cigarette hanging limply off his lip. “Seriously… god, I’m so glad I’m out of here in ten minutes. I don’t want to be here when they blow up.” He grimaced when the sound of shouting started from behind the closed doors. “I’m leaving early. Don’t tell on me, guys.” He turned on his heel and walked off, giving a short wave.

“Oh!” Al exclaimed, suddenly remembering the reason he’d tagged along. He fished the tickets out of his pocket and caught up to Havoc, holding them out. “Do you want these?” he asked.

Havoc took them curiously, flipping them over with mild interest in his smoke-darkened hands. “What are they for?”

“There’s a concert tonight down on Main,” Al explained. “I was supposed to go with Winry, but her train got delayed and she won’t be here until tomorrow night.” He shrugged, smiling a bit. “I didn’t want them to go to waste, so I figured you could ask Hawkeye.”

Breda let out a low whistle and grinned widely as a light flush appeared on Havoc’s cheeks. “Sweet, Al. You made him blush.”

Al chuckled a bit as Havoc shot Breda a glare. Straightening, Havoc puffed his smoke a bit, nodding. “Alright, thanks. How much you want for ‘em?”

“You don’t have to pay me back,” Al protested, shaking his head. “Just take them, okay?”

“Oh, come on, Al… I can’t just take them.”

“It’s fine. I don’t want your money.” Al smiled. “Just take Hawkeye and have a good time, alright?”

Grinning, Havoc shook his head. “You’re a stubborn thing,” he said, rubbing the top of Al’s short hair affectionately. “But at least you’re nice about it. Ed could take some lessons from you.”

“I’ve tried to teach him manners, but they never seem to stick.”

“I can tell,” Falman put in dryly as the yelling from Mustang’s office became louder. “They’re gonna kill each other in there.”

“Yep,” Havoc sighed. “On that note, I’m out of here. Try not to get yourselves killed.”

After he was gone, Breda let out a long sigh. “I think this calls for a break,” he said, standing up. “I’m going to grab a snack. Anyone want to come?”

At once, Falman and Fuery stood, the youngest’s cheeks flushing slightly when his stomach grumbled loudly. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “I’m starving.”

“You coming, Al?” Falman asked.

Al shook his head, falling onto one of the couches next to the desks. “Nah, I’ll just wait here. It’s probably a good idea for someone to stay in case they start getting violent,” he said with a roll of his eyes, jabbing his thumb towards the door from which Ed’s vehement swearing could be heard. The three soldiers left with the promise that they’d be back quickly, and Al was left alone in the room. Trying to ignore the arguing, he got up and walked around, randomly looking at books on the shelves and staring out the window at the darkening sky. It was only quarter after five, and the sun was setting already, red and orange and pink staining the sky so vibrantly it almost looked like a painting.

He moved on to the next bookshelf and was just picking up a book that had to do with the military history of state alchemists when he noticed something. It was quiet, unnervingly so; he could almost hear the city’s evening sounds from outside the fortress, and swore he could pick up faint sounds from other officers in rooms beside this one. The arguments had stopped, and as relieved as he was, it bothered him, for some reason… Ed and Mustang’s arguments never just _ended_.

Hesitantly, he stepped closer to the door, straining his ears. He could hear much, but the doors were soundproof (or were supposed to be; they didn’t seem to do much for when they were screaming at each other), so he set his jaw and cracked open the door. He was about to call out and ask if Ed was ready to go soon, but the words died on his lips as his light brown eyes stared hugely at what was happening on the other side of the room.

He didn’t know why the first thing he noticed was Ed’s hands slapped over his own mouth, but he supposed that was the reason he hadn’t been able to hear anything. Now that the door was open and nothing was stopping the sounds, Al could hear tiny, muffled moans and desperate whimpers that Ed was very obviously trying to swallow down, but if the wicked smirk on the general’s face meant anything, he wasn’t going to be able to keep doing that for long. Al was completely frozen, watching the scene before him play out in horror and embarrassment. This… this was… he _knew_ they did things like this, he didn’t care, but damn it, he never wanted to _see_ it!

Then Mustang was between his brother’s mismatched legs and doing a movement with his hips that Al strongly believed should be kept firmly locked away in the secret land of gay erotica, Ed’s back arching off the desk and a throaty groan flying from his panting mouth. His hands scrambled for something to hold on to, and Mustang’s forearms were the victims, little red crescent moons appearing where Ed’s nails dug in. “Faster,” Ed moaned, his entire body practically rolling under Mustang’s, eyes shut in bliss. His teeth dug into his own arm, muffling a loud series of curses and pleas when Mustang sped up, still wearing that smug grin that Al was never going to be able to see in the same way ever. “Fuckin’—ah— _harder_ , Roy, hahh— oh _fuck_ , there!” Ed’s head tilted back on the desk, eyes squeezed shut and eyebrows pushed together in ecstasy.

Al finally snapped out of it. He turned beet red up to the roots of his hair and slammed the door shut, not even caring if it interrupted them. He heard Ed let out another desperate curse and then Mustang’s dark chuckle and had to count to ten in his head so that he didn’t faint. _Apparently it didn’t bother them at all._

He quickly walked away from the doors, trying his hardest to forget what he’d seen— but oh, damn it, it was going to be awkward as hell when Ed got home. He nearly ran smack into Falman and yelped, jumping back and nearly falling onto his butt. Damn, he was all jittery; he just walked in on his brother _taking it up the ass_ and _begging_ , for fuck’s sake— he guessed he couldn’t really blame himself. He also guessed that there was no way he was going to be able to look at Ed when Mustang was in the same room ever again.

“In a hurry?” Fuery teased. His grin fell when he saw the wide-eyed look on Al’s face. “Alphonse?”

“Oh,” Al squeaked, reddening. ‘I, um…”

“Did you go in?” Breda asked grimly.

Al nodded, cheeks burning. He had to shut his eyes to try and block out the memory, but it didn’t work, because it just started playing out on the back of his eyelids. “Ah… yeah,” he said awkwardly, blinking them open. He tried for a laugh, but it came out awkward and nervous and only made him want to crawl under a rock even more. “They, uh… they’ll probably be a while, huh?” He sounded uncomfortable even to his own ears. Oh, gate this was the most inconvenient situation in the _world_.

Falman nodded, thoughtfully rubbing at his chin. “Sometimes it’ll be hours,” he mused, quirking a disturbed eyebrow. “We just pretend nothing is happening and go about our business.”

Al nearly let out an undignified squeak at the ‘hours’ part and nodded quickly, feeling awkward beyond belief. “I’m gonna just… go back to the apartment. When Ed’s, um— done, just let him know, okay?”

They all nodded and Al booked it out of there, wishing desperately that he could stop by the corner store on his way back and pick up a container of eye bleach.

**_____**

When Ed returned to the apartment around ten that night, Al was reading on the couch, trying to escape the memory thatwas _still_ replaying over and over in his head. Gate, it was disturbing to think that his socially inept and snarky older brother had a sex life, and apparently a damn good one at that. Ed walked into the living room and gingerly sat on the chair opposite Al, his clothes just a bit rumpled and hair a bit messier than usual. There was a hint of a bruise peeping out from his collar, but Al didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t have noticed it if he hadn’t seen what he did.

“You were gone for a while,” he said casually, putting his book down and waiting to see what kind of fib Ed would come up with to cover his tracks.

“What?” Ed asked blankly, like he’d just been torn out of a daze. He turned bright red, and it pained Al to think of what Ed had probably been daydreaming about. “Oh, yeah. I was… you know, just rewriting my report and stuff.”

Al snorted. “Stuff indeed,” he murmured, lifting his book again.

“What?”

“Nothing.” It became silent, and it was just awkward. Ed shifted uncomfortably, clearly picking up on the vibe Al was giving off.

“What?” he repeated, sounding a bit irritated.

“So, did the general approve of your report this time around?” Al asked lightly. “It sure took you a while. It must have been a _damn good_ rewrite.” He made sure to put emphasis on those two words specifically, and watched with a wry sort of amusement as Ed’s face turned bright red.

“Y-you—” He sputtered, eyes wide in horror. “Oh fuck, please tell me you didn’t see—”

Al stared down at his lap. “Trust me,” he said quietly. “I wish I hadn’t.”

“Oh fuck.” Ed covered his face with his hands. “Oh fuck, fuck, _fuck_ , I _told_ him it was a bad idea!” He groaned, face a ripe shade of cherry that actually kind of impressed Al. “I’m going to kill myself… fucking hell… no, I’ll kill _him_ , then myself… _Fuck_ …”

“Well,” Al cleared his throat. “On the bright side, you got what you wanted, right?”

Ed peeked at him through his fingers, eyes wet with humiliation. “What?” he whispered, voice cracking.

“Mustang let you off the hook… I’m assuming?”

Ed nearly choked on the hysteric giggle that clawed up his throat. “Are you _kidding_? He’s still adamant on punishing me, even though I don’t have to redo the report anymore…”

“I don’t think I want to know what is classified as punishment, if what I saw already is classified as ‘convincing Mustang to let me off the hook’,” Al said dryly.

“ _Al_!” Ed wailed. “It’s probably like, cleaning the bathrooms or something! Fuck!”

“Well, you can’t blame me…”

“You’re a fucking pervert!” Ed screeched, jumping to his feet. Immediately, he crumpled, cursing under his breath and landing facefirst on the couch. “ _Fuck_!” he yelled as if that summed everything that had happened this evening up.

And really, Al thought, picking up his novel and slinking down low in his seat, it did.


End file.
